The first Saturday in May is already circled in red on next year’s calendar for ever-hopeful micro-owner Ken Snyder
Even a blind pig finds an acorn every now and then, as the old saying goes. Oink and bon appétit.
Yep, I now have a microshare in a horse who may be special. In fact he is so special that the word ‘may’ might have application to the first Saturday of that month at Churchill Downs. Seriously.
The trainer and exercise rider aboard for his last workout have uttered the magic words ‘Kentucky Derby’ about my horse. I throw out the former’s forecast, as that kind of assessment is as frequent with horse trainers as the wind blowing. Even from this particular trainer, who has trodden the Derby trail many times in the past.
The exercise rider is another story. I see him often. He had no idea I had a microshare in this horse and I had no idea he had ridden him. When I asked about the horse – if he was familiar with him, was he any good – he instantly turned sideways to me, put out clenched hands to pump imaginary reins, and all he could say was: “He’s going to be in the Kentucky Derby.”
Okay, okay, a lot can happen between now and May, and yes, I’m embarrassed to admit my horse hasn’t even had his first start. But if you’ve had the kind of luck I’ve had with four prior microshares (chronicled here) you can understand my excitement.
To wit, my first microshare was in a horse sired by a stallion who had produced over 100 black-type stakes winners, of which 40 won Graded stakes, two won Eclipse Awards, and – finally – one won a Kentucky Derby.
Horse people know the formula: you breed the best to the best and hope for the best. My horse might have been the worst of all his daddy’s progeny, running for $4,000 in the last race of a career with one win in 18 starts.
Shell shock
Maybe shell shock from that first microshare muddies memories of the next three and the order in which they came. How they went, that was a disaster.
Two had health issues preventing them from getting to a starting gate, and one of those also had mental issues but later found hunter/jumper competition more to his liking. Another did make it to the races but health problems sidelined him almost immediately.
So if you can’t understand my excitement about a ‘career’ with my latest horse that spans only three breezes at Churchill Downs, you’ve never experienced not just failure but disaster with four microshares in a row.
That was then, this is now; my horse has been killing it. He ran a bullet work, going 46.40 seconds for four furlongs in his first breeze. A week later he ran 47.40 with a workmate, earning a second bullet. His third work was over five furlongs in 1:00:40 – second of seven horses going that distance that day.
The way he did it was beyond words, as evidenced by the exercise rider above, who happened to be aboard, and by someone recording the breeze.
A fresh horse joined him at the half-mile pole to push him around the turn, and push him he did. My horse started running like his tail was on fire. At the eighth-pole he was maybe three lengths ahead, and had pulled around eight lengths clear at the wire.
How impressive was it? You hear whoever was taping the work whistle, as in ‘wow’.
Then we come to the pedigree, and he’s got that as well. His poppa wona Breeders’ Cup race – one of three straight G1 wins (and six wins out of eight races in total) – before heading off to the breeding shed. He has produced four G1 winners in a relatively brief stud career. Mom was no slouch either, winning over $800k in her career. So no worries on that score.
Law of averages
The plan now is a maiden special weight race some time next month. I’m expecting odds of 1-5. I’m a firm believer that the law of averages will even out the wins and losses at some point. That’s what keeps gamblers going – and also what empties pockets faster than a pull on a slot machine.
But now I’m starting to think good luck might be inverse to a ton of bad luck. The more you’ve suffered, in other words, the bigger the payoff when the tide turns.
Maybe that’s a step further into lunacy just past believing in a law of averages. Yes, there will be a payoff, but as with slot machines, it may come a week, a month, a year after you’ve tapped out with bursitis in your shoulder.
For now, though, I’m fully expecting a payoff on my horse’s debut and I can’t wait for the novel experience of one of my horses reaching a starting gate. I cannot imagine a competitor with workouts like that of my horse, and I shall be there for his first race with proverbial bells on.
I’ll do the walkover to the paddock, which my media pass enables. Getting into the new paddock at Churchill Downs might be another matter, as it requires one of those small lanyards with a number of the race that trumps a media lanyard.
So perhaps I’ll get a bucket to carry, to look like part of the barn team. It can do double duty: get me into the paddock past the pesky security guys, then later I can fill it up with winnings from a bet … or acorns.
Oink.
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